


tell it to the northeast wind

by Schwoozie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, F/M, One Shot, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwoozie/pseuds/Schwoozie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl's brought her all this way for a reason. He must have. But how can she understand with nothing but a frozen pond and his silence as her guide?</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell it to the northeast wind

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by kgbm on Tumblr with the song "Long Goodbyes" by I Am Not Lefthanded.

Beth stands at the edge of the pond, the toes of her boots edging through the snow and grass of the bank, sending puffs of white tumbling to the ice below. There's a slight breeze with enough chill to it that Beth can feel her nose-hairs tingle, but the rest of her is wrapped up tight and still warm from the long trek it took to get here. Over an hour following him through the woods, vest snug around his dollar-store jacket that can't do much to keep the cold out. He never complained, though; never said much of anything, barely even looked at her to be sure she was keeping up. She supposes he could tell where she was based on the sounds of her boots crunching in the snow, but it was unnerving to see nothing of him but those wings, the sure-footed way he navigated the woods. She'd never seen him move like that before—his normally slightly awkward gait changed to something softer, more fluid, as if he were a tree walking among his brothers.

No matter these puzzling developments, Beth is caught on a single fact: He didn't look her in the eye a single time on their way here. Not once, not even when he helped her over a fallen log or grabbed her elbow to steady her when a hidden root nearly sent her tumbling to the ground. It makes her question what the hell they're doing here; why he had her lie to her family, why they traveled so far, why their destination seems to be little more than an unremarkable pond in the wilderness. And even worse: Did he bring her here to tire her out? Show her that she isn't meant to be with him after all, that her pursuit is fruitless, that she's nothing but a silly girl with a crush sticking a little too close to a man twice her age?

But she kept up. She did. And now she's standing next to him, the tips of her boots sticking over the ledge, the sun wrapped up in clouds much like Beth is wrapped in wool.

He still isn't looking at her; has one hand stuck in his pocket, the other by his mouth as he chews on his thumbnail. Beth wonders where he picked up that habit; whether he's had it his whole life, or only since he met her.

Silly little girl.

“So. This is it?” she asks, if only to break the cloying silence between them.

He doesn't answer, not really; grunts, jerks his hand away from his lips and looks down at it, sticks his thumb in his mouth as if to ease the sting of a torn hangnail. His shoulders are tense, fingers twitching like he wants a cigarette.

She knows him like that. Those tics, little cues that a stranger would miss. Surely that means something?

“We just gonna stand here or...” she trails off because he's looking at her—no, he's looking at her jacket, at something over her shoulder. Not in her eyes. Why won't he look in her eyes? “Daryl, I don't... it's beautiful, it really is, but I don't know what you want—“

“C'mon.”

And then he's stepping onto the ice easy as you please, moving like he has no fear of it giving way.

“Daryl!” Beth shrieks in a voice far higher than she would like, and he pauses, turning part of his body towards her. “I... are you sure it's safe?”

He snorts, holds out a gloved hand. “Been below freezing long enough. It ain't gonna break.” He waits, and when she doesn't answer he glances back, catching her eye for a moment before looking away. “It ain't gonna break, Beth. I promise.”

“Well, if you promise...” That at least draws a snort out of him, and before she can talk herself out of it she's grabbing his hand and stepping with him onto the ice.

He doesn't pause and neither does she; walks as purposefully as she can knowing what's under her, how fragile it is. But there's enough snow that they don't slip, and she doesn't hear any creaks, and Daryl doesn't seem worried, so why should she be? And before she knows it they're in the center of it and she blinks as Daryl drops her hands and plops right on his bottom, then lies back with a groan.

“Shit, I'm getting old,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders and closing his eyes as Beth stares at him. She blinks several more times, then scrambles to sit and then lie down beside him, a respectable distance between them. His arms are laid out flat beside him and she copies his pose, watching him and waiting for him to tell her what to do.

But he doesn't say anything. Lies there quietly, eyes closed, breathing deep and even like he wants to suck the entire forest into his lungs. Eventually Beth looks away from him, up towards the sky. She blinks against the snowflakes fluttering into her eyes, sees the sun hazy through the cloud cover. Even through her layers the ice is chilly against her back and she shifts a bit, trying to warm herself up without bothering Daryl.

“My mama used to bring us here.”

He speaks so suddenly that Beth nearly jumps; covers it with a cough and looks over at him. His eyes are open now, staring like hers had been at the sky, the rest of him still enough that he could be a corpse. And she doesn't like that. She doesn't like it at all, so instead of his face she stares at his torso, holds her own breath until she sees the slight movement of his chest.

“Yeah?” she prompts after a long term of silence.

“My old man must have shown her first, but he never came with us. Just me, Mama, and Merle. Every winter it froze solid and we put on skates that Merle lifted from some bougie rink and just skated around.” He swallows and she sees it move through his throat. “Came here the day before she died. Merle was gone by then. Just us. I could feel it all changing but I didn't know...”

“You think she knew?” Beth asks, desperately wanting to reach for him but knowing he needs to do this on his own.

Daryl is silent for a long time, then says finally, “Yeah. Yeah, she knew.”

“Why'd you bring me here, then?”

He looks her at last in the eyes and she almost wishes he hadn't. Like a jagged piece of ice he looks at her, shoving it through her chest until her lungs stop working, twisting till her heart's nothing but a mangled mess. And he keeps looking at her and she knows he's waiting for something but she doesn't...

She'd look down if the look in his eyes weren't so arresting, because she isn't sure if she's feeling—but she is. His hand crawling over hers, curling almost shyly around hers, fingers slipping between fingers until they lie locked together on the ice. He's never done this before. Never held her hand for no reason.

And he's still looking at her and he squeezes her hand hard and all her breath leaves her in a rush because she understands.

“And things're changing now too?”

He nods, biting his lip, hand loosening and tightening uncertainly. A puff of air leaves her mouth and she squeezes his fingers, unrelenting in her grip. It takes a moment for him to return it, but he does. And he's still looking at her.

“Good changes?” Beth whispers.

He nods, mutely. Beth realizes their faces have been getting closer. Something electric zings up her spine because he won't stop staring at her, not even to look at her lips, but she understands. She's with him and she understands.

“I gotta change with you, then,” she says. She brings their linked hands up, lays them over her heart. “Sound good?”

He doesn't reply, not even with a nod. But he does lean forward and when his forehead touches hers she's suddenly warm again.

She sees he's closed his eyes and she closes hers too. His breathing is still slow, still deep, and she feels a little of it on her chin.

She could kiss him. It would be easy; the arch of a few neck muscles, a repositioning of her head. And she wants to. She wants to more than almost anything.

But there's something perfect to lying here. Not moving. Not changing, however much change is to come. The snow builds on top of them and they lie and they breathe and Beth could swear she hears their voices twined together on the wind.

 


End file.
